


The Question about Megalomaniacs Affair

by blktauna



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:17:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blktauna/pseuds/blktauna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ruminations on the nature of their pink gas wielding enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Question about Megalomaniacs Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Canon out the window on this one folks... just exploring a thought I had after watching Count Ark, Barnaby Partridge and Marshall Gurnius all in one day... And no sex! Who knew I could do that!   
> Kudos to Katya for all the help!

"Napoleon?"   
Napoleon Solo peeked over his sunglasses and let his hungry, brown eyes rake over the very blond figure in the lounge chair next to him. He surreptitiously admired the well-shaped legs and the nicely sculpted shoulders of his favorite companion, so revealingly clad in a small blue swimsuit. Long, blond hair cascaded over elfin ears and long neck.   
"Mmmmmm?"   
"Do you think they were more than just enemies?"   
"Who?"   
"Mandor and Villandros."   
"How romantic of you."   
"Napoleon... It's just that the bitterness between them was somewhat more pronounced than the usual Thrush enmity."   
"Oh?"   
"I was just wondering," Illya shifted slightly in the chair, turning to face his dark haired companion. "Have you noticed that most of the evil geniuses we face are homosexuals?"   
"Have you gotten sunstroke?"   
"Not at all. I was liberal with the sun block. Seriously Napoleon, haven't you noticed how often I am pawed, threatened and tortured? I cannot tell you how many times I have had to repel my captors' unwanted advances."   
"You mean it's happened more than... " Napoleon's voice trailed off.   
Illya looked at him squarely.   
"Yes, far more often than I would have liked. That time with Mandor and Villandros was somewhat of an exception. Villandros was far too focused on Mandor to spare any attention to me. It was almost a relief." He sighed and lay back in the chair.   
There was a short pause.   
"Who pawed you?"   
An exasperated snort issued from Illya's fine nostrils.   
"Who didn't? Actually the most bizarre was Emory Partridge. Well, Edith did the pawing, but he wanted to watch."   
Napoleon looked on in stunned silence.   
"Then of course there was Victor Marton. He said I reminded him of a young Alex."   
Napoleon's nose wrinkled. That was not something he ever wanted to think about.   
"And Viktor Karmak. I don't like to think about what happened before he locked me in the chair in that poison gas room."   
"You did look precious in your pajamas."   
Illya tried to ignore him.   
"There was Harry Blackburn in Africa. But you had the gorilla to keep you company."   
Napoleon merely looked pained.   
"And Barnaby Partridge. He thought he was being clever. As if I wouldn't notice him trying to grab me, even under hypnosis. That's why he wanted me to shoot you, you know. Poetic justice, he said. Either that or he wanted to watch us wrestle."   
"Don't tell me there's more."   
"I haven't even started yet. There was Captain Cervantes in the Penal Colony. Aptly named, Penal Colony. He immediately made mention of having a close personal relationship. Not terribly surprising, I might add, but I think you might have had a taste of that one yourself."   
"Well, no, actually..."   
"Really? I'm surprised. Anyway, then there was Dr. Kavon. He tried to pull something in his library. He kept hooking at me with his cane. But you didn't notice because you were all over Tracey."   
"Not true, Illya. I was trying to keep her from being all over you."   
"Is that what they're calling it now, Napoleon. Really," Illya huffed. "And Herr Voegler in France. He only painted that target on me after I refused to have a little romp in the woods."   
Napoleon giggled.   
"Then there were those Thrush thugs in Paris. You never did ask about my trousers."   
"Well, it seemed rather obvious..."   
"And that Nazi doctor friend of Miss Diketon. That was one of the few times I was truly worried, Napoleon."   
"I thought it was Miss Diketon who wanted your fabulous frame."   
"It was a tag-team effort."   
Napoleon made a sympathetic face.   
"Then there was Captain Calhoun. But he might just have been out in the desert alone too long."   
"The Foreign Legion will do that to a man."   
They nodded in agreement.   
"Then we have Count Zark."   
"I take it that it was not your blood he wanted to suck..."   
"Napoleon, that's awful!" Illya laughed in spite of himself.   
"The list keeps growing. Who's next?"   
Napoleon leaned over the arm of the chaise.   
"Well, Mark Ole and his goons. I was happy when they finally tied me to that chair."   
"Ohhh, bondage now is it?" Hope gleamed in Napoleon's eyes.   
Illya glared at him again.   
"You sound like Captain Morgan..." Illya flushed and caught himself before saying anything else.   
"Captain Morgan... Captain Morgan... The old coot on that tub out of Hong Kong? The ex-Royal Navy guy?"   
"Yes... um, I made the mistake of quoting the Poet Laureate at him...."   
"Mmmm yes, well, I have always said your mouth will get you into trouble."   
Napoleon grinned at the flushed blond. Illya cleared his throat and continued.   
"Then there was Colonel Picks. I wonder if he did that to all his day laborers?"   
"That's probably why they couldn't get any good help."   
Illya laughed.   
"I have one for you. What about you and Harry Beldon?" Napoleon could barely restrain his eagerness for an answer.   
Illya scowled at him. He thought for a moment then an evil smile creased his face.   
"What about you and George Donnell?"   
Napoleon pursed his lips and muttered something unintelligible.   
"Hmmpf, as I thought," the blond snapped.   
"I didn't say anything!" Napoleon flung his hands up defensively.   
"Indeed. It is your usual defense when caught out."   
"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about," Napoleon hedged. "How about that Arabian Affair? Only Sophie was after you on that one."   
"What do you mean 'only' Sophie? Not only did I have to keep her away, I had to fend off her father and his idiot assistants."   
"Well, you did look lovely in that dress."   
Illya's glare was scathing.   
"If I hear that once more..." Threat lay heavy in Illya's voice.   
"Okay..okay...I'm sorry. I won't mention it again." Napoleon swiped away the sweat trickling down the side of his face. "To be honest, I don't think Major Morgan was too happy to see you either."   
"Well my friend, you would be the one to know about him," the blond snorted.   
"What about that safecracker? Oh... what was his name..."   
"You mean Mr. Rudolf?"   
"You remember his name?!" Napoleon's voice was almost shrill.   
"Napoleon, I have an eidetic memory, I remember everyone's name. And should I ask you about Mr. Satine?" Illya retaliated.   
"Um no... Er, I thought this was about you getting pawed."   
Illya harrumphed. His face was screwed into an unpleasant frown. He slumped back into his lounge chair with amazing petulance. Napoleon put on his best "you can't help but love me" smile and drew a finger lightly over Illya's pout.   
"Maybe you're just mad because I'm not pawing you now."   
Both their eyes twinkled. Napoleon shifted his lounge chair. It scraped loudly. Napoleon's fingers flitted over Illya's thigh. Little goose bumps appeared in their path.   
"Perhaps."   
Napoleon's smile grew suave.   
"Well, my dear Russian. Shall we move this indoors?" he purred.   
Illya was out of the chaise and halfway across the pool before Napoleon finished his sentence.   
  
\----  
end   
2002 


End file.
